


Are You Wearing My Shirt?

by Green_Arrows_of_Karamel (Mare9548)



Series: Birthday presents for dearies [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Early in Canon, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, One Shot, Season/Series 02, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mare9548/pseuds/Green_Arrows_of_Karamel
Summary: Felicity has a little accident and borrows Oliver's shirt.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: Birthday presents for dearies [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/602653
Comments: 7
Kudos: 137
Collections: The Oliver/Felicity Fanfiction Archive





	Are You Wearing My Shirt?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little gift for one of my friends on Tumblr. Happy birthday, dearie! Hope that everything you wish come true in this new year of your life.
> 
> PS: This is set in early season 2 (between 2x02 and 2x05). Enjoy the reading!

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

A shriek leaves Felicity as she whirls around, her hand shooting up to her throat, to where her heart just jumped. Oliver sneaks out of the shadows, studying her. The fear she felt moments ago is replaced by heat, creeping up to her neck and face. Felicity is hyper-aware of Oliver's intense scrutiny. An inspection far more keen than it should be, which could give her great imagination space to come up with assumptions that aren't true. Because Oliver isn't attracted to her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tries to conceal her colorful bra, which was fairly visible underneath his white shirt. Her attempt to preserve some modesty fails. Oliver zeroes his sight on her moving arms, lingering for long seconds after. She squirms in her own skin as molten lava spreads through her veins.

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" she asks more harshly than she intends to. Yet, she doesn't regret the tone. It's what finally made Oliver look up to her face, one of his brows raising up. "I mean, it's not like you can't come down to your own secret lair. It's yours, and yours alone… you come here anytime you want. You won't hear me saying that you can't—"

"Felicity."

She takes a breath, berating herself mentally for letting her babbling get away from her. Again. "What I meant was that I thought… weren't you going to have a brunch with Thea?"

"I did. It was more breakfast than brunch, though, and now it's over. What are you doing here so early on a Saturday?"

Unable to face him any longer, Felicity turns around and heads for her station. She flops down on her chair, focusing on the three screens before her. Her fingers fly over the keyboard, sounding convincing as if she was coding something. Fortunately, Oliver lacks enough tech knowledge to spot her random typing.

"I came to run an algorithm to filter the search for last night's robbers."

"And the shirt?"

Felicity can swear she hears amusement rather than irritation in Oliver's voice. Either way, she keeps her eyes glued to her computers. "If you must know, I spilled a latte on myself, so I had to wash my top before it stained permanently. Coffee mishaps are really hard to get rid of once dried, and my blouse is wet, I need something else to wear while it dries. I saw this shirt in the bathroom and I borrowed it. Hope you don't mind."

Oliver puts his hand on her shoulder and says a soft "hey". Unable to ignore him anymore, Felicity looks up at him. His gaze is neither devouring nor amused but something else entirely. "You okay? Did you got burned?"

Felicity is disarmed by his concern. It's on these occasions when she feels herself falling harder for him. She has seen Oliver dishing out his worst, mainly to criminals, and she knows how hard he tries to keep himself away from the others. And yet, she sees the walls around him tumbling down when he's worried about her. She tries to convince herself that it's because they're friends, but her heart flutters excitedly at the thought of Oliver having stronger feelings for her.

"No, no. I'm fine. Well, only that now I'm out of my caffeine fix. And you how I get when I haven't drunk enough coffee."

The amusement returns to his eyes and his lips twitch slightly as if he's holding back a smirk. "I think I can handle that. Be right back."

"My hero," she teases.

After rolling his eyes, Oliver walks away to the stairs. As his feet clank on the metal steps up, she can't help ogling his fine backside. It's her turn to stare with heated ferocity and daydream about the possibility of putting her hands on something more than his shoulder.

It's much later when Oliver goes into the bathroom to change himself out of his Arrow suit after calling the night off. He catches sight of the shirt Felicity wore earlier. It's neatly perched on the hook that is fixed on the back of the door. The memory of her, wearing it, her red-on-white, heart-patterned bra showing beneath, awakens his body. He's instantly aroused.

He's felt attraction for many women, too many perhaps, in the past, but none has elicited such a strong reaction from him. The lust for those other women was like a wildfire; a frenzied inferno that destroyed everything in its path swiftly, leaving nothing behind.

But the desire he feels for Felicity, which he's tried to ignore many times before, runs beneath his skin like the molten rock in the center of the planet. A slow but inexorable force that melts down every defense he erects against it. It can't be stopped or diverted from its course. Its power is such that it changes Oliver at a fundamental level. He ignores what his future holds, but one thing is sure: if someday he decides to find someone to share his life with, he will compare any and all women against Felicity and he will find them lacking. He will have to settle only with the second best.

Felicity is too innocent, too pure, shining bright with her inner light, for him to even consider to be with her. She's too precious for him to infect her with his darkness, which would happen if he dared to reveal his feelings for her. All he is willing to do is to enjoy the small pleasures he can take from her while keeping her at a safe distance.

Oliver stretches his hand out, pinches the fabric, and edges the sleeve to his nose. As he suspected, the shirt is impregnated with her scent. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he creates the image in his mind of burying his face in the crook of her neck, laying butterfly kisses there, and getting drunk with that sweet aroma. Of sliding his hands along her smooth skin, caressing each of her curves, to later join their bodies, seeking the greatest bliss of all.

Growling, he jerks the shirt away of his nose, almost —_almost_— regretting caving to the temptation of imagining what it's like having the impossible. All that he gains is a raging hard-on that now he has to take care of on his own. Yet, these little daydreams about Felicity bring him solace and hope. Because whatever it has happened and whatever will happen in the future... Felicity will always be _his_ girl.


End file.
